


Here I Defy Thee

by PinkRangerV



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asatru, Gen, Heathenry, Religion, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRangerV/pseuds/PinkRangerV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all the gods gave up Earth. AU from 8.02.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here I Defy Thee

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from a lovely poem (http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/longfellow.html) about Thor challenging the Christian gods. In Supernatural, the mythology shows that morality is basically 'might makes right'--Heaven chooses what happens because Heaven is the big one, not because of objective morality. The old gods have ceded Earth to Heaven. Well, I'm Pagan. There is *no fucking way* the gods would give us up like that to what's basically a giant bully--especially guardian gods. So I've always liked the idea of Pagan!Sam, because his god and heaven *screwed him over* and blamed him for it, but when Sam was able to wield Thor's hammer, I ended up ranting about how he'd love Thor, and Freya snuck in, and it turned into this.
> 
> Most of this is fairly accurate Paganism, since Thor is one of the gods I worship. However, the '(god name)son\dottir' naming convention is one I created for this fic. SPN!gods have a different relationship with their children than RL!gods. Also, I made up the Wolf clan, they're just supposed to be an internet gathering of Beserkers.
> 
> Therapists are very important if you need one. A therapist who specializes in trauma or abuse _cannot_ be replaced with one who hasn't. Don't be afraid to check credentials.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Abusive relationship, 90% of the cast temporarily dies.
> 
> EDIT: This has somehow been posted on ebooks-tree, which is making money off work I did not profit from. I am FURIOUS. I am writing for free INTENTIONALLY, NOT because I'm too stupid to make money here. In the context of a fic I wrote ABOUT MY FUCKING RELIGION, that's even worse. If you got here via ebooks-tree, you should know what they're doing--get away from that site! Come hang out on AO3, FFN, LiveJournal, or DeviantArt instead for ethical fanworks.

Sam had always loved thunderstorms.

 

They were power and strength and comforting when he needed it. Rain soothed; thunder growled through him. In his strongest moments, it was the storm he drew on.

 

Ruby was the only one he’d shared that with. She’d shrugged and said that hey, he could use his hammer on her whenever he wanted, Thor. Sam had responded with an even worse joke.

 

When Sam prayed in church, he believed. He _had to believe_.

 

But he prayed, mostly, in the thunderstorms. He heard God’s voice there.

 

Thunder, lightning, rain--they were a place that was purely Sam’s. A place like coming home.

 

***

 

 _I do not accept human sacrifice,_ a man whispered to Sam as he held Molinjor. _And never for my hammer._

 

It wasn’t possession, it wasn’t _being a vessel_ \--Sam was asked to do something and _consented_ , without thinking, to strike down this man for his father--

 

 _My_ father _?_

 

***

 

_In Sam’s dream, goats were nibbling his hand, while a giant drank from a tall glass. The storm was gathering around them, and Sam felt a strange, unnatural twinge of fear._

_“My son.” The man rumbled. He got up and went to Sam, wrapped him in an embrace._

_He wasn’t John. He was Sam’s father, and Sam noted this was probably the weirdest dream he’d ever had._

_The goats headbutted him in a fairly friendly way, and his father laughed. “They like you, son.”_

_Sam smiled and pulled some grass for them, crouching so they could nibble from his hands. “They’re nice.”_

_His father snorted. “Try getting them to pull a chariot.” He joined Sam on the grass, producing carrots from somewhere to feed the second goat. “This is Tanngnjo`ster, the teeth-grinder. See, it is how he eats. His brother Tanngrisnir is the snarler.”_

_“Hi, there.” Sam offered, petting Tanngrisnir’s head. The snarler seemed entirely content to eat from Sam’s hand. Sam looked at...at his father. “Who...uh, who are you?”_

_“I am the storm.” His father replied. “I am lightning and thunder. I am the rain that washes my wife’s golden hair and waters her earth. I am your father, my storm-born son. I am Thor.”_

_…_

_“...Hunh?” Well, that was going to impress Thor, Sam thought wryly._

_Thor laughed. “Do you think you are only a body? You are a soul, my son! No one god can create them all.” Thor reached out to pat Sam’s shoulder. “You are a mighty warrior, Sam. I am proud.”_

_Sam looked at the ground. Tanngrisnir nudged him and bleated for more grass; Sam pulled some up and tried to think. “I’m Christian.”_

_Thor chuckled. “What, do the angels think they can claim you that simply? The Divine is not their Yaweh.” He looked Sam in the eye, proud and strong and awe-inspiring but...safe, too, and welcoming. “Not all of us have given up this world so easily.”_

_Sam didn’t know what to say._

_Thor smiled. “I am here, my son. When you die, I will bring you to Freya’s realm myself. Too long has she been denied your presence.”_

_Thor seemed to want to hug him. Sam rested his head, cautiously, against his father’s shoulder while he fed the goats._

_“Do not fear Hellfire, my son.” Thor told him in a soothing rumble. “Do not fear that excuse for a Heaven. Do not fear what the preachers tell you, or those who claim to speak for me. I am Thor, defender of humanity. You are my son. I will always be here.”_

_Sam tried not to feel his eyes prickle with tears. He pulled up another handful of grass for the goats instead._

 

***

 

It wasn’t just a dream. Part of Sam, the logical, rational part, thought that was crazy; the rest of him ignored that.

 

He was scared and Dean and the angels could always find him, but things...started happening. They were in Arizona in monsoon season; Sam ran through rain that everyone else avoided and came home laughing, freer than before. They went to pick up groceries and a boy, a kid who looked high-school age, handed Sam a Molinjor pendant.

 

Sam never felt safer than when he wore it.

 

He was...less afraid, now, of enjoying battle. A good fight was _fun_. Sam started going to local dojos to see what new tricks he could pick up. He tried to get Dean into sparring. Dean just laughed at him.

 

He had a strange urge to grow things. To garden or even get a potted plant. He couldn’t, not in the Impala…

 

He ended up getting a plant that was 100% guaranteed not to spill dirt anywhere and he and Dean had fresh snap peas whenever they wanted.

 

Finally he started going on the internet.

 

***

 

Thor apparently liked beer as much as Dean. Sam poured some onto the ground, waiting for the words to come to him for worship.

 

There weren’t any.

 

He was in a...it was a nature reserve meant for worship, and this was an altar to Thor for travelers who were busy, but Sam didn’t know what to say or how to pray anymore. ‘Amen’ was a Christian thing...was he supposed to praise Thor? Like in a church? Thank him for things?

 

Well, Sam was _definitely_ grateful he wasn’t going to end up in Hell again.

 

“Uh. Thank you. Father?” Sam tried.

 

Nothing.

 

Sam sighed and sat back.

 

After a while an older man came up with incense and charcoal. Sam politely got out of the way, and the man murmured something that sounded Norse over the burning incense. Sam listened and wondered, was that how you prayed? Was that what you did?

 

“New believer?”

 

Sam realized the man was addressing him after a minute. “Uh. Yes, sir.”

 

The man chuckled. “Relax. If Thor wants something, you’ll know.”

 

Sam nodded and tried to relax. The man went back to his chanting, almost singing now.

 

After a while Sam felt a pull, and joined in with his own voice.

 

***

 

_“The fact that I look like Ruby is amusing.”_

_Sam tried not to blush at the_ naked _Ruby he was seeing. “Uh. Hi. Freya?”_

_“Very good.” Freya closed her eyes, then took another form--blonde, beautiful, but not Ruby. “You have your own love. I won’t frighten you with her.”_

_Sam felt a pang at that._

_“Interesting, though…” Freya studied Sam. “You imagine me as Jess when you think of a lover. Imagine me as Ruby when you think of my_ seidr _. That may make things difficult.”_

_“Hunh?” Sam sucked at talking to gods. Just, completely._

_Freya smiled. “You don’t think Thor was the only one with a hand in your creation, do you?” She examined Sam. “Your magic is not seidr. But it is still magic, just...different.” She lifted a hand to Sam’s cheek. “You are still mine. And you will be welcome in my hall.”_

_“Thank you.” Sam could do that much. Bless Southern manners._

_Freya laughed. “Stop_ thanking _us and start_ growing _, Thorson. Your angels might want praise eternal, but I don’t.” She quirked an eyebrow at Sam. “Not that I’d complain if you felt like a bit of...physical...worship…”_

_Sam was just going to die of embarrassment now._

_Freya frowned, but said nothing. Just washed the frown away with a smile. “It’s all right. Come, Sam. Do you mind if I use that name?”_

_“No Ma’am.” Sam really didn’t._

_“Then you must call me Freya.” Freya smiled. “Come. Let me show you some of my world.”_

_She led him to a group of kittens. It was the best time Sam could remember having._

 

***

 

“So we’ve got, what, no leads? Great, just great, Sam.” Dean grouched as he bit into his burger. “Guess you got rusty after a year, hunh.”

 

“Dean.” Sam shut the laptop. He had no idea where it was coming from, he was just _sick_ of this. “Dean, look at me.”

 

Dean looked up in surprise.

 

“I did not abandon you. _I thought I was following your orders._ I can’t read your mind, okay? If you want me to do something, you need to _tell me_.” Sam sighed. “I get it. You’re mad at me. But I would _never_ have stopped looking if I didn’t think you wanted me to. I honestly thought you were in Heaven and happy. Maybe I was wrong, but I didn’t know. So knock it off.”

 

Dean’s jaw looked like it was on the floor.

 

Sam knew he’d pay for it later, but he picked up the laptop and walked away anyway. He needed to be alone.

 

***

 

Sam took a careful breath as he looked at the notepad and pencil.

 

He’d started hanging out online with other American psychics, after another Heathen had directed him there. (There was a _name_ for what he believed. There were _other people_ Thor had created. Brothers and sisters. It was _amazing_.)

 

There was no difference between him and them. They’d read him ten different ways over the internet. They’d heard his story. They’d told him, over and over, he wasn’t a freak or a monster, nothing was wrong with his powers--addiction could do funny things to the mind, but Sam’s power was _his_ , was a _gift_.

 

 _why don’t you draw?_ One person suggested on chat (Sam had _everyone_ on chat, he could _talk to people_ , it was amazing). _just, like, draw your feelings?_

 

 _I can’t draw._ Sam pointed out.

 

 _You sound like you have PTSD\depression,_ the guy pointed out, and he was one of the leaders of the psi community, he was amazing and Sam couldn’t tell him no, flat-out, _and I hate to play the age card, but Sam, you need to rest somehow._

 

Sam had no idea what to draw.

 

He just started scribbling, and then images came; a willow leaf, but on fire. Flames, everywhere, and blood, blood dripping down…

 

Dean barged in, stumbling a little.

 

Sam was so intent on his drawing he didn’t notice the fist coming. He was just on the ground, and then his face hurt.

 

“Damnit Sammy!” Dean roared. Sam got slowly to his feet. _Move slowly. Don’t be too afraid, don’t be too defiant. Calm. Project calm._ It would end, it always did; Sam just had to try and keep Dean from blowing up too much at him. “I saved you! I _saved you from fucking hell you ungrateful shit_!”

 

Sam’s laptop dinged. _Hey, Sam, u there?_

 

Crap. He was still logged in.

 

“Do you have _any idea_ what I had to do to get your soul back?” Dean growled, bringing Sam’s attention back to him. “I killed a little girl. This high.” He moved closer, angrier. Sam would have backed away, but his back was to the wall.

 

Dean drove his fist through the wall.

 

There was another ding. Sam could hear it through the terror-pain washing through him. He could even see the laptop.

 

_if u don’t answer i’m calling the police, something’s wrong._

 

“Dean.” Sam had no idea what was giving him strength but he said it anyway. “Dean, I have to answer this person, they’re going to call the cops.”

 

Dean gaped. It gave Sam a chance to slip away, slide into his seat again. _Hey, I’m here. Sorry to scare you._

 

 _What’s going on?_ It was Crystal. Of course. Crystal was probably the most empathetic person Sam knew, of course it was her, she would know, oh, gods, she would know… _Are you hurt?_

 

 _No. No, I’m fine._ Sam was typing far too fast. His heart was racing. _Everything’s fine. Still on for tomorrow, right?_

 

 _Yes._ Crystal paused, then wrote, _What happened?_

 

 _Nothing, I’m fine._ He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

 

“Who’s that?” Dean demanded.

 

 _Is someone there? Binary._ Crystal replied.

 

He couldn’t, he couldn’t do this, couldn’t betray Dean, couldn’t lie again--”Crystal, uh, she’s been, uh, tutoring me. Demon banishing spells.” _1_ , he pressed.

 

 _Awesome. Lemme email you the cinnamon-roll recipe you wanted!_ Crystal typed. It came out of nowhere and almost made Sam burst out laughing. _You need to use less sugar but it comes out pretty great even super-sweet._

 

...She was covering up the prior texts, Sam realized. Bullshitting. He could bullshit. _Thanks._

 

 _“Cinnamon rolls_?” Dean scoffed.

 

“She, uh, likes baking?”

 

Dean stared at him for a minute, then snorted and went to bed.

 

***

 

This was a horrible idea. Sam knew it the second he woke up that morning. On the other hand, he also knew that Crystal was entirely ready to call the police if he didn’t show up, so he put on his best smile and sweet-talked Dean into going to Crystal’s house.

 

It turned out it was a big house, and it looked like it had been added on to every which way. The yard was a giant overgrown garden, and Sam felt the whisper of magic as he stepped onto the path. _Home,_ it whispered, _good, safe, right_.

 

Sam breathed it in.

 

Crystal opened the door, said his name, and glomped him. Sam laughed and hugged her back. “Hey, Crystal.”

 

“Oh my god you’re so _tall_!” Crystal squealed as she let go. “I know you said you were, but wow, look at you!” Sam tried not to blush. “And this must be Dean!”

 

“Dean Winchester.” Dean grinned and looked Crystal over, holding out a hand.

 

Crystal didn’t take it.

 

She smiled up at Sam instead (and was that anger when she looked at Dean? Sam tried to shake it off, he didn’t want to mar this, he was finally meeting friends) and took his hand. “Come on in! Hey, everyone, Sam’s here!”

 

A cheer went up.

 

“...Crystal. You _didn’t_.” Sam actually laughed, walking over to the group of men. The Wolf clan, here. Adian got up and held out a hand, and Sam laughed and embraced the Beserker because holy shit, they were the coolest guys he knew.

 

And then the whole thing was greetings and laughter and he didn’t even notice that Crystal had shown Dean...elsewhere. He just knew that he was with a whole group of people who were just like him.

 

And then one of them clipped him with a gesture.

 

Not hard, it was one of the younger boys and he was maybe ninety pounds soaking wet at the moment, but it was _right_ where Dean had hit him last night and he flinched because it still hurt.

 

“Hey, what happened?” Adian was the first to ask, the first to touch, to realize Sam had put on makeup…

 

Sam wanted to sink into the floor.

 

“Hey, I’ve got some bruise balm if you want.” Cory offered.

 

“Yeah, Cory, can you make sure…” Adian asked.

 

“No problem.” Cory grabbed Sam and steered him to the bathroom.

 

“I’m fine.” Sam tried.

 

“Yeah, uh, about that…” Cory grabbed a washcloth and wet it. “Here, lemme get this off and see.” Sam held still. He was too embarrassed to fight. “Crystal’s a social worker. And really nosy. Sorry.”

 

“I’m…” Sam didn’t know what to say.

 

“Here.” Cory finished up with the washcloth and spread the balm on Sam’s cheekbone. It felt cool and good, not painful. “Crystal’s better at this. The whole it’s-not-your-fault thing. But...Sam, your brother is an _asshole_.”

 

“He’s just...angry.” Sam offered quietly.

 

“Doesn’t mean he gets to hit you.”

 

Sam was leaning against Cory, and he was...oh, Thor’s hammer, he was not crying, he was not that weak--

 

“Crying helps.” Cory said. “The battle’s over. Let it out.”

 

Sam snorted. “M’not a wuss.”

 

“That’s what shows it.” Cory said, and it was firm and honest and sincere and _fuck_ now Sam _was_ crying. “If you didn’t cry, you’d be a monster. Sam. Look.” Cory wiped Sam’s good eye with a thumb and held the tears up. “This? It means you’re a man.”

 

Sam blinked.

 

Cory wrapped Sam in a hug again, and for a guy who was built like a tank and stuck his hand in open fires he was really touchy-feely. “You won, Sam. That’s one of the worst battlefields, and you won.”

 

Sam gave up and cried.

 

***

 

Sam wasn’t entirely sure what happened to Dean. He was trying to calm down and then there was noise that sounded like a minor explosion of fury, and then the sound of the Impala driving away.

 

Sam sighed. Dean would come back eventually. It would suck when he did.

 

After a while he was calm enough and put together enough to head out and hang out with the Wolf clan. They turned out to be the kind of guys who, if you put them in a room together, would turn out wrestling within ten minutes. Sam ended up joining in before Crystal kicked them outside. Sam barely noticed it was getting dark until one of the kids--there were a lot of kids around--told them to come in.

 

Turned out the Wolf clan didn’t normally hang out here, they’d just stopped by, and there were a _lot_ of people who lived with Crystal. Sam couldn’t keep all the names straight. He ended up eating on a couch and just laughing at the jokes and rolling with things. The Wolf clan left after helping with the dishes, clapping Sam on the shoulder and promising to call.

 

Dean still wasn’t back.

 

One of the women offered a guest room casually, then when Sam said no, Dean would be back soon, rolled her eyes and told him to go to bed already. Sam went to bed already before thinking of turning and asking…

 

No. He didn’t want to know.

 

He went to bed and slept.

 

The next morning Sam found out that the house was more like a giant farm. Dean still wasn’t around, so he offered his help--some of the adults had jobs, but Sam wanted to repay them, all of them, for their kindness. Crystal chimed in that Sam was great with animals, and somehow Sam ended up trailing after Ruby--not _his_ Ruby, a woman who was old and sweet and wise and grandmotherly and took no shit from animal or human--and helping her care for the goats and chickens and cows. It was the west coast. There was room for lots of animals, and forest beyond the farm.

 

“So you guys are survivalists?” Sam asked while he played with Kitten, a goat who thought he was a cat and kept headbutting everyone.

 

Ruby chuckled. “Nope. The gods warned us to get off-grid. Leviathans and all.” She finished dumping the feed in the bin and set the bag down. “Said you and your brother were going to try to handle them, but to get off-grid just in case.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Good job, by the way.” Ruby stood straight. “Come meet the ducks. Watch out, it’s mating season.”

 

Sam had never realized the gods had relied on him too. He hoped he hadn’t let them down.

 

***

 

By day three, he realized Dean wasn’t coming back.

 

He’d have had a panic attack, except he was surrounded by goats who were curiously nudging his pants pockets for treats and it was weirdly soothing to be surrounded by nature and goats and life like this. As it was he just tried to ride it out.

 

When it was about lunchtime he went into the house and found Crystal, though.

 

“Hey, uh...what’d you do to Dean?” He asked.

 

Crystal shrugged. “The elders told him to go screw himself.” The elders were the oldest men and women on the farm; they seemed to have final say in most decisions. “And Mark and I threatened to beat his ass. He didn’t believe us, so Mark roughed him up a bit.”

 

So that was the explosion Sam had heard. Oh, god. And Dean was _gone_ , Sam’s things were _gone_ , the Impala was _gone_ , Sam’s _entire life was gone_ …

 

“Hey. Breathe. Just breathe, okay?” Crystal’s small hands were resting on Sam’s shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just breathe. In and out. Go slow. You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay, you’re safe. Just breathe through it, okay?”

 

Sam ended up breaking down on her shoulder.

 

Great.

 

***

 

“Hey, Sam. I’m Mitch.”

 

The guy was tanned and looked like a surfer dude and sounded a bit like he had the accent. Sam made himself smile and shake hands. “Hey.”

 

“Crystal’s my cousin.” Mitch explained. “Said you could use someone to hang out with, and she offered to cook while I’m here. Want some help with them?”

 

“Uh. If you don’t mind.” Sam handed off the feed bag, and Mitch took over easily. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem. Want to go fishing? Easier to do therapy somewhere goats aren’t trying to eat you.” Mitch offered.

 

 _Therapy?_ Sam almost groaned. Great.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty laid-back.” Mitch joked. “No, really, Crystal said you weren’t doing too hot. Up to you. We’re gonna have to wait for evening anyway for any real bites.”

 

Sam hesitated, then nodded. It...couldn’t hurt, probably. He touched his necklace again. It didn’t seem to help much right now. He always felt alert lately, on edge and ready to fight at the drop of a hat.

 

“Great!” Mitch clapped Sam on the back, then spotted Ruby. “Hey! Ruby! Missed you!”

 

***

 

Fishing was ninety percent sitting around, Sam realized once he and Mitch were settled in at the river. Must be why Mitch liked it.

 

“So you know, I’m an actual licensed therapist. I specialize in trauma and PTSD.” Mitch explained. “So if you’re cool with it, you tell me what’s up and I’ll tell you if I think I can help, okay?”

 

Sam considered, then nodded.

 

“So Crystal already told me some stuff, but why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling lately?” Mitch asked.

 

Sam blew out a breath. “Uh. Edgy. Like I drank too much coffee. And...I don’t really know what I’m doing now that Dean’s gone.”

 

Mitch nodded, waiting patiently.

 

“Uh, the panic attacks...I’ve only really had the one? I just, uh, cried a lot. I’m not hallucinating or anything, so…”

 

Mitch frowned. “What, you hallucinate normally?”

 

Sam sighed and started explaining about Hell. Mitch listened patiently, asking a few questions about the doctors at the hospital but otherwise just nodding and agreeing. At the end Mitch considered, then said, “Damn.”

 

Sam didn’t say anything.

 

“I don’t know what that was, but it sounds like one of two things. One, flashback. Weird one, but really, I’ve seen weirder. Two, that asshole was trying to talk to you.” Mitch glanced at Sam, and Sam nodded. “If you want, Crystal can put a spell on you to keep you safe until you’re ready to deal with it on your own.”

 

Sam considered. “I...I don’t know if anything can protect me.”

 

“You’d be amazed.” Mitch grinned. “Up to you, okay? Offer stays open.”

 

Sam nodded.

 

***

 

A full week went by. It was the best week of Sam’s life.

 

He wasn’t a freak or a weirdo here; just Sam Thorson (he...couldn’t call himself a Winchester, not anymore, and there were others who didn’t, who used the names of gods because their human families were bad or because they were godspouses), the boy who helped Ruby herd and heal the animals, who fished with Mitch and was too shy to be, as they put it, fully out of the broom closet. He was welcomed and accepted and starting to love those around him in return.

 

And then Kevin and his mom stumbled onto the doorstep, rambling about angels.

 

They had maybe five minutes of warning, but it was enough--the angels flew off the barriers that were set up like ping-pong balls. Sam was shaking as he pulled Kevin and Mrs. Tran into the house, behind him, he had to protect them--

 

“Sam, come on.” Mitch tugged Sam and Kevin’s arms. “Come on, all three of you.”

 

There were herds of children and a few adults heading to the storm cellar, Sam saw. He’d wondered _why_ there was a storm cellar until he ducked in and realized it was for those who couldn’t fight.

 

Pride and fear tore at him. He wasn’t sure which was going to win until Mitch nudged his shoulder and nodded at the children. “I know they’re not goats, but can you keep them calm?”

 

Sam sighed and nodded. Next fight, he promised himself. Next time…

 

He headed over to where the kids were and sat down. “Hey guys. You okay?” They nodded, looking terrified. “Want to hear a story?”

 

The kids liked that idea. And somehow it turned into Hulk smashing the Big Bad Wolf. Repeatedly. Sam sighed as the youngest children demanded it again and tried to think of a way to politely make them shut up.

 

That was when the sound of roaring flames started.

 

Sam blinked. The adults were cackling; Sam turned to the children, confused.

 

“My aunt’s Italian.” Lori, the oldest girl who wasn’t fighting, explained.

 

“Uh?”

 

“She’s a pyro.”

 

Sam decided not to ask.

 

***

 

It was night.

 

Sam wasn’t sure when exactly. His internal clock put it at ‘godsforsaken early why the fuck am I awake’. Sam listened and heard…

 

Nothing.

 

At all.

 

Sam yawned and sat up. Was the fight over? Everyone else seemed asleep. He looked over at the glow of Kevin’s watch and saw that it read 1:15.

 

…

 

And didn’t change.

 

Sam counted out a full minute before realizing Kevin’s watch was broken. He reached over to shake Kevin’s shoulder without thinking, still half-asleep.

 

Kevin rolled on his back. His eyes were shut, but Sam knew what death looked like.

 

He was dead.

 

Suddenly Sam realized the entire storm cellar was dead.

 

He felt frozen, like his heart was gripped in a vice. He almost prayed but the words couldn’t form even in his mind.

 

He got up and went to check on Mitch. He was dead.

 

Sam went up to the doors and cracked them. Nothing. He pushed them fully open and walked out into the night.

 

The dead were everywhere. Some were angels; most were human. After a week, Sam could name every corpse. Even the animals had been slaughtered. Sam walked among the dead silently, aimlessly.

 

Crystal was armored, and she still had a gaping wound where an angel blade had stabbed her in the stomach. Sam knelt next to her and closed her eyes.

 

He crouched, shaking.

 

The angels were there, all of a sudden, and Sam knew they were, but he couldn’t move. He was broken and paralyzed, and everyone who had loved him was dead. One of the angels walked forward.

 

“Father.” Sam whispered. “Please. Help me.”

 

“God hears your prayers.” The words would have been comforting; now they were an abomination, twisted and wrong in the angel’s mouth. “Sam.” The angel knelt; the vessel was that of a young, pretty woman. “God understands. Your role was a hard one. Walking away…” The angel smiled sympathetically. “We understand.” She took Sam’s hand in hers.

 

Sam took his hand away. “It wasn’t _your_ father I was praying to.”

 

The angel’s face went blank.

 

“What do you want to do with me?” Sam demanded, getting to his feet. He was _angry_ , was _furious_ \--these were angels, they were _sworn to protect humanity_ , and here they were killing dozens for the crime of caring _about him_ \--he could barely think through the rage. It was cleansing and purifying and oh, he welcomed it. “Take me away from Freya’s hall? Stick me in that place you call a Heaven? No, but you wouldn’t be that nice to _Lucifer’s Vessel_ , would you?” Sam was almost spitting his words as he stepped closer. “Let me guess. I need to be punished. It’s _mercy_.”

 

The angel was very bad at her poker face.

 

“Michael told me the same thing in Hell.” Sam hissed. “Every time he ‘rescued’ me from Lucifer. He said it was _justice_. That God _loved me enough to hurt me_.” The angel said nothing.

 

“Answer me.” Sam didn’t know where it was coming from but it was welling up from a place he’d never tapped before. “What. Are. You. Going. To. Do. With. Me?”

 

The angel considered, then spoke. “You will be punished.”

 

There was probably another sentence there, something about God’s Love or God’s Will or whatever. Sam didn’t hear hit. His fist hit her face instead.

 

Okay, fighting with the Heavenly Host was stupid, but right then Sam was about as intelligent as a brick, and had all the subtlety. He grabbed an angel blade from somewhere and let loose a wild war scream as he fought--

 

The lightning was _blinding_. For a minute Sam didn’t know what was happening.

 

Then he saw Thor.

 

***

 

The battle had been short, bloody, and punctuated by roars of god-language curses that Sam didn’t really try to translate. Sam was standing, awed, next to Thor when it was over.

 

Thor looked him in the eye, then gripped him in a bone-crushing hug.

 

Sam gripped him like a life preserver, trying not to cry and failing miserably. Thor held him tight and didn’t complain at all, and Sam knew in that second he would never, ever follow any other god.

 

Eventually Sam calmed down enough for Thor to rumble, “Sam. You are unharmed?” Sam nodded. “Come. There are many of us who must speak to Death tonight. These were not lives meant to be lost.”

 

Thor steered Sam over to a small shelter of trees, where the goats were already waiting. “Rest, my son.” Thor rumbled. “Know you have done well.”

 

Sam smiled.

 

***

 

There were a _lot_ of gods and goddesses, Sam saw, ones who had never given up on Earth. They were there, and Death, and they were talking--or sometimes arguing--over souls and life and death.

 

At some point Dean arrived.

 

He stood over Sam, and Tanngrisnir snarled. Dean winced. “Sam--”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Dean blinked.

 

“I’m done.” Sam explained. He was. He just...couldn’t handle it anymore. Not Dean. Not his guilt trips or the beatings or any of it. He was done. “Go away. The goats are going to eat you if you don’t.” Well, probably.

 

Dean studied him, then threw his hands up and stormed off.

 

“That was impressive.” That was definitely Freya, she was the only naked goddess of the crowd. “Good goaties.” A cat made its way up to Sam and hopped in Sam’s lap for petting and warmth.

 

Sam obliged the cat. “What now?”

 

“Heaven has overstepped its bounds.” Freya smiled. It was not a nice smile. “We are finished letting them abuse our children this way. They promised it would change, and lied. So now we will take back what is ours.”

 

“Oh.” Sam scratched the cat’s eyebrows. It purred like a motor engine. “Can I be on your side?” Sam blurted.

 

“You mean you weren’t already?” Freya laughed. “My dear Sam. Anyone is welcome.” She sat next to Sam, offering her hand. “Would you like to stay?”

 

Sam looked at Thor, his father. At Sif, beside him. At Freya, naked but unashamed, welcoming. At the friends who had become almost family.

 

He laced his hand into Freya’s. “Please.”

 


End file.
